


Do you wanna die happy?

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Violence, Drabble, Hand Jobs, Inspired by Music, M/M, PWP, Short, also we're gonna pretend they're 18 so i don't have to think too hard, it was sort of a 'this should happen so it will', it's not even au it's just pwp, regardless of context, whatevs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Microfic in which Jake blows Dirk and RC indulges a fetish for boys on their knees. So there's that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you wanna die happy?

**Author's Note:**

> "PUT YOUR ITUNES ON SHUFFLE AND WRITE A SHORT DRABBLE INSPIRED BY THE FIRST SONG THAT PLAYS." - fanficy-prompts.tumblr.com
> 
> Song: Revolver - Madonna
> 
> whoops didn't finish on time. oh well. i had fun with this, anyway. it's good to just write, ahhhh. this could've ended a whole lot sooner than it did, but i got carried away, so have some idiot alphas doing useless shit.

He pulls his head back at your loud request for him to stop his goddamn sucking. He licks his lips just like you taught him. He’s been your personal slut for so long, he’s full of those mannerisms and techniques he’s gotten from you. It’s sexy as hell to think about how you’ve imprinted yourself on his existence. 

He winks and grins, his voice low and husky, when he speaks, from the recent attention he’s paid to your cock. “Yes, Mr. Strider?” His tone is measured, deliberate, and sexy as anything you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, bro, you’re gonna make me go off too soon if you don’t slow the fuck down.”

He gives you a slow, firm stroke and you groan low in your throat at the touch. “Are you saying I’m getting better at this, Dirk?”

He sounds so hopeful that you almost want to laugh, but he’s started stroking again and it’s all you can do to resist muttering incoherent declarations of adoration and lust. “Hnnnnng, I—”

He raises his other hand, shoots you a single-pistol-and-a-wink, and wraps his lips around your length. The combined pressure and heat from him pushes you over the edge in no time, and you’re calling his name as your head falls back, your hips jerk forward, and you feel Jake gag around your dick as he swallows your cum.

You swoon, your head light and your body feeling like it’s been pulled through a too-small opening and come out rearranged on the other side. It’s a good feeling.

Panting, you look down. He’s happily buttoning you up and standing, gently patting the front of your pants before pulling you into a salty kiss that makes you shudder.

“That was fun, Strider. But I’m going to need a little, ah, attention as well.” You look at him through heavily lidded eyes and smile.

"Sure, babe." You nip his lips before sliding your hand over the solid bulge in the front of his jeans. "It appears you're very engaged in our current activities, Jake."

"Dirk, I swear to God, if you start with any stupid statistics-"

"You don't even believe in God," you say, but you fall to your knees and unzip his pants with your teeth, silencing him and freeing his erection from its denim prison. It juts forward gracelessly and you mouth at it through the silk of his boxers. He watches you as you lick over the front of said silky garment, your tongue caressing his outline. before you pull him through the fly and suck him in.

You could probably listen to him make those hot little noises for the rest of your life, but Jake was closer than you expected, and when he shoots off without warning or buildup, you sputter.

His cum dribbling down your chin, you glare up at him. He shoots you a dazed and apologetic smile. You wipe the slow moving drops of semen off your face with your fingers, stand, and hold them in front of him.

"Dirk, you can't be serious." He sounds very done with your shit.

You grin and wipe his own spunk delicately onto his mouth. "There you go, milady. Now you look marvelous. All sparkles and glossy smiles and shit. Aren't you just the prettiest little thing?" You laugh as he rolls his eyes and licks along his lips, cleaning them and drawing your attention.

"You're an ass." He's smiling. He can't fool you.

"Yes, I have one, Jake. Thank you for noticing."

"Come on. Let's get cleaned up so I can beat your sorry behind at a good old fashioned scuffle. You deserve to be whooped, Strider." You follow him to the room on legs that still feel faintly like jelly while your head tells you it's time for a nap. You might need help changing. And moving up the stairs to the roof. And getting back down.

You're probably gonna get the shit beat out of you, if only because you like letting him win sometimes. You're torn between thinking it's because you feel guilty at being so much better than him and thinking (more accurately, if you're being completely honest) that you just really love it when he gets physical with you.

"If you ever win our fights, it's 'cause I let you, English, and you know it." You slap his ass as he bends to grab a clean pair of boxers out of your bottom drawer and throws them to you.

"Keep telling yourself that, Dirk. I'm more than a match for you and I'll prove it to you yet again soon enough." He sounds as exhausted as you feel.

The two of you struggle lazily into your clothing, share a loaded glance, and collapse together on your dusty, little mattress. You're smiling at each other, in accord that you'll take a rain check on that fight.

"Hey, Dirk."

"Yeah?"

"I'll win."

"Sure."

As it turns out, he does, later on. You let him, and take home a black eye for it, but then he's kissing you silly and all you can think about is the potential for a joint bubble bath as consolation and him hugging you tight while you sleep, so you play it up a little for the rest of the night. He knows you're being a ham.

Neither of you mind.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at reduxcorrelator.tumblr.com. if you have any concerns, critiques, questions, or requests, please feel free to leave a comment on the work or send me a message at my blog.


End file.
